The Hues of a Calming Room
by ponderer
Summary: The hues of the room are calming, even when they used to seem so bright and stubborn... Hermione's thinking of the future. [RHr, DH spoilers]


TITLE: The Hues of a Calming Room

AUTHOR: soquitelovely (Amanda)

SUMMARY: "The hues of the room are calming, even when they used to seem so bright and stubborn, but now as you lay enclosed in him, wrapped up in his single bed with bad springs from years of usage, and the moving posters of the Cannons filtering the walls, you realize how much you adore this room, because it's his and now you're his, and this room has become your own."

RATING: PG-13 (just for safety)

SPOILERS: Up to and including _Deathly Hallows_.

He leans forward, arms clutching your waist, his nose burying itself into your neck, breathes in deeply. His hands have been brought up close to your chest, enclosed into your own. His long legs, clad in well worn plaid pajamas, are entwined in yours, bare from simply wearing his matching night shirt. The warm blankets have been kicked away towards your feet, yours on his, soft on rough. The pillows are wrapped in the warmth of his smell, freshly cut grass and wind swept leaves, and everything to do with fall and the shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. The hues of the room are calming, even when they used to seem so bright and stubborn, but now as you lay enclosed in him, wrapped up in his single bed with bad springs from years of usage, and the moving posters of the Cannons filtering the walls, you realize how much you adore this room, because it's his and now you're his, and this room has become your own.

Over the course of the time since the end, confetti thrown, celebrations, funerals, and all that, you've spent more time in this room then you had over the course of a seven year friendship. And it's only been, four weeks; you count to yourself, deep, slow steady breaths blowing across your neck, the fine little hairs being awakened. You remember the commotion from announcing yourselves as a couple, no one really being all that surprised that you two had finally managed to get things together, finally. Harry of course knew the longest, and you think he's really thankful because that gives him more of a chance to sneak off alone with Ginny, because well, you and Ron want some time alone too. Now that you've gone, with Ron of course, to get your parents, and brought them back home, you've been spending your days with them, re-adjusting their lives again, and spending the dark nights wrapped up in Ron's arms. He doesn't mind sharing you, especially knowing that you always come home to him. You grin at this, allowing his sigh behind you to wrap you up tighter against him. He wants to move out of the Burrow, and you're glad, because then this sneaking in and out from underneath his mother's nose will be over, and you can snog freely all over without watchful eyes or annoying older brothers who happen to drop in.

You want to move in with him, even if it's against your parent's wishes, who do understand what has happened, but nonetheless cannot grasp the idea of you living with a man without marriage in the works. But, Ron knows that marriage will happen, right? That this is it for you, that he's all you've ever wanted. And sure the words have never been said aloud, _will you marry me_, but you know they will be. You think that maybe he doesn't know that, but he murmurs your name, kisses your neck as he nuzzles closer, and you can't imagine how you can be so close, but never close enough. And you know that this is it for him too, just by the way he caresses you without thinking, whether it's a hand on the small of your back, your skin tingling at the slight feel of his fingers through cotton, or the way he murmurs your name right before he falls asleep, almost like a prayer, or a thank you for the Gods for letting you be safe and in his arms. And his parents won't be much help either in the situation. You do know that his mother will not want them living together because they aren't married, and even though she loves you and considers you one of her own, you do understand that he is her youngest son and that it will be hard accepting another woman in his life that will be permanent, to take over the mother's role. And you understand how that would make her feel, and when you had children, with Ron, you think you'll feel the same way. However, you've spent too much time waiting, waiting for the happy ending and Harry being safe and alive, and just being with this wonderful man, allowing him to hold your attention and not having to worry about hiding your attraction behind books and knowledge and bushy hair. This is your time to be happy and in love, and be with Ron in the only way you know you can.

You allow yourself to turn in his arms, reveling in the fact that his snores are more cute and comforting rather than annoying, like you'd thought. He hardly moves in his sleep, stays in one place, doesn't kick off the covers, doesn't drool. His snoring is one bad habit that you never want to rid him of. You can't imagine not ever hearing that sound before falling asleep. You're thankful, even though he's a deep sleeper, that he does notice when you get up before him and tries to drag you back into the warmth of his arms and blankets, his sleepy smile and eyes always beg you easily, and you fall back into him because there's nothing better than this. He notices when you just need to cuddle, and not doing anything more because you're simply too tired to do anymore than kiss his chin and fall asleep, but that he also notices when you've had a rough day and you just need him to take care of you. He'll have candles lit, the spell up and running, fresh sheets that are soft and comforting. He might even have a bottle of wine, red – your favorite, and he'll massage your sore shoulders and listen to your day, kiss your neck and then lower, until eventually you can't think straight, just more and _oh, Ron_.

You imagine living together will be much like the Burrow. It will be full of life and vigor, mostly because Ron's heart is so full and he's energetic, and everything will be in its perfect and proper place, because of you. He'll be a bit messy and careless about his dishes and clothes, but you'll sigh and clean up after him because he'll have made you a fabulous dinner or simply looked at you in a way you'd never thought he would. He'll let you read until your eyes are blurry and red without complaint, because he knows how much you love the written word, how your brain needs the mental exercise, even though it pains him to see yourself strain yourself so soon. The house, a cottage you think, will have a large yard with beautiful colors of flowers, favorite fragrances and colors, trees for shade for afternoon pick-nicks, and you think maybe they'd be good for children to climb up. You think further down, there will be little redheads running around, chasing butterflies in the day, lightning bugs by night. They will gather as many scratches as freckles, and will have bright blue eyes, and the knowledge of knowing how much their parents care for them.

You can see birthday parties, George bringing fireworks, Molly and Arthur knitted sweaters, Bill and Fleur beautiful cards and pictures, and Harry and Ginny will bring a new toy, only the best. You and Ron will fight over the right gift, you thinking of something more practical, and Ron will want to buy impulsively. You'll even each other out, buying something useful, but popular among children so that it will be charming and perfect, just like the child. You can see Hogwarts and the promises of sending letters and coming home for Christmas, you holding a tissue to your face, Ron's arm tightly holding your waist to him, waving good-bye for the term to begin, happy cheers and excitement rushing past.

You see fights, more brutal than during the school years. Fights where he'll leave, and you'll cry, so scared that he won't return like last time. That he'll truly give up and find someone better. But then he'll come back, eyes just as red and upset, but he'll apologize and kiss you and murmur words of love. You see deaths of family members, the right kind of deaths that are normal in life, but nonetheless still hard to come by. You see tears and make-ups, but the love out-wins it all.

You see weddings and graduations and grand-children and more weddings and flashes of greens and whites and blues, good times, and bad. And every scene has Ron in them. You can't imagine life without him.

You look up into his face, such a beautiful face, long full lashes dusting his cheeks, freckles outlining the contours of his structured jaw and nose. His lips, plumb and full, red and looking completely kissable. His hair, long and shaggy, just the way you like it, rests down on his forehead, barely covering his eyelids. You reach your free hand up to move the fringe away, letting your hand come to rest on his cheek while you allow your lips to capture his. It only takes a moment for him to respond, another reason why you know this is forever, and he sighs contentedly, his hands coming up your back to run through your long curly hair, throwing the useless ponytail band on the floor. Your raise your leg up over his hips, deepening your kiss and opening your mouth to him. You kiss languidly for a few moments, letting him wake up with love. He leans away, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on his lips. He crooks one eye open, almost shy, and you tilt your head thoughtfully, your hand still firmly on his cheek. Your mouth opens to speak before you even have a chance to stop yourself.

"I love you and I can't imagine ever living without you. I just thought of every little thing about our future and I can see so much joy and happiness, and I see you in it. Let's move in together. Let's get married." He looks shocked, but not to the extent of fainting, or leaving. It's more of a relieved shock, or confused shock, because you think he wanted to do this. You can tell he wants to say something, but you interrupt, placing your fingers on his lips to quiet him. His eyes have never looked so beautiful. "I love you, Ronald Weasley. I don't care that I asked you, and I don't care how stubborn you can be or how you snore or how you don't clean after yourself. I love you for everything you are and aren't. I look forward to all of our bickering and making up and unfortunate times, because I know that we've made it this far for something, right? These past four weeks have just been, wonderful really, and I want to be able to come home to you every night and not have to worry about putting up silencing charms. Except, for maybe in the future with children," you say, and he blushes slightly, but a grin opens across his face, the wonder at the word children. "Marry me."

"You know, that's not the proper way to do things. You didn't even ask me. I mean, you didn't even get on one knee," Ron says cheekily, but you don't care. You capture his lips again, shutting him up; one of his favorite ways to get you to stop talking. He pulls away again, a bit more serious this time. "Are you sure? We've barely been official for that long and …"

"Ron, we've been together over seven years. I think that we've waited long enough."

He grins again, because he's never the one that has to think things over. "Yes, I do think waiting is a bit overrated."

He kisses you again, pulling you up and over his body, you laying completely on him, still kissing. As the morning sun rises up over the distant hills, and the Burrow begins its rituals of breakfast making, you and Ron make plans of the future; how beautiful and imperfect it will be.


End file.
